


On a field where it rained (I hope a flower blossoms)

by remm_remm



Series: blue bird - hwasun oneshots [3]
Category: Mamamoo
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Angst, Character Death, F/F, I didn't mean to it just happened, I really don't know why I wrote this, I'm Sorry, It's All Sad, One Shot, Romance, Tragic Romance, War, but hwasun are still the softest, hwasun, i feel like i need to tag more
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-16 20:41:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29088501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/remm_remm/pseuds/remm_remm
Summary: Yongsun and Hyejin had a little care about their vast and distant future, when they were falling in love with each other.But now there is a war raging in their kingdoms, and Yongsun and Hyejin think about a future that would never become reality.
Relationships: Ahn Hyejin | Hwasa/Kim Yongsun | Solar
Series: blue bird - hwasun oneshots [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2120778
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	On a field where it rained (I hope a flower blossoms)

**Author's Note:**

> It just happened. Yeah 🙃
> 
> (Did I mention I have zero idea on how to write decent summaries?)
> 
> Stay healthy. Stan Mamamoo.

Yongsun opens her eyes, and the first thing she sees is the dusty curtain of the tent. She sucks in the stale air smelling of smoke and death, and even forgets to grimace. The stench of war has become so familiar that she no longer remembers what it's like to feel the clean morning air filled with moisture and traces of night frost.

The last battle died down almost a month ago, but the metallic taste of blood still lingers under her tongue every time she wakes up.

The morning sun shyly makes its way in through the creases, diluting the dense darkness of the tent, and Yongsun gets up from her hard mattress that is prickly and lumpy from the rotting straw inside, and stretches her limbs with a groan. Her body finally got accustomed to wearing bulky armor for a whole day, and now almost nothing hurts after short sleep breaks, and the ugly and painful bruises have already turned into equally ugly, but not so painful yellow spots. _Mother would be terrified_ , she thinks distantly, staring at her scarred and bruised thighs.

There is a distinct sound of the awakening camp outside. Clatter of armor, neighing of horses, clang of a hammer, skirr of a grinder, muffled conversations, and even a rare laugh. Yongsun is invigorated by these sounds. Even though she slept for two hours.

She literally feels a layer of dirt on her body, and more than anything else she wants to jump into the nearest pond and stay in there for at least half an hour, but it's late October, and Yongsun doesn't want to fall down with a fever in the midst of military action, so she had to be content with water in the basin. If someone told Yongsun a year ago that every morning she will wash her hair in a cold, silty-smelling water, poured into a battered wooden basin, and then wipe herself with the same water as much as possible like some vagrant, she would have laughed in their face. Now she doesn't feel like laughing.

She shivers, but stubbornly soaks her hair with ice water and rubs them with a strange smelling yellowed soap. Yongsun had always prided herself on her magnificent golden hair flowing down her back all the way to her ankles. She spent several hours every day caring for them, always done it herself, not daring to let anyone near them. ( _Except for one person_ , echoes in her head, but she quickly brushes aside the painful thought.)

She sighs and rinses the soap off her ruthlessly cut shoulder-length hair, now more resembling a straw inside her mattress than the golden waterfalls they once were.

"Your Highness." The guard stands at the entrance to the tent, his large silhouette barely visible through the dense fabric, but Yongsun doesn't need to see him to know who it is. 

"Woosang," she wheezes and clears her throat. Her neck and shoulders cover in goosebumps from the cold water, and icy drops trickle irritatingly down her arms and back. "Wait there."

"Your Highness, this is urgent," says Captain Woosang, his voice dripping with worry even more than usual.

"I'm sure my father can wait another five minutes for me to get dressed," Yongsun snaps, which is so weird because she always thought of herself as a gentle, friendly and polite princess. But here she is, snapping at her subordinates while tying her wet hair in a plain bun. "Or does he want me to walk around the camp in my underwear?"

"I'm not here about your father," Captain Woosang mutters as Yongsun ties the laces of her tunic. "A woman rode into the camp at dawn. Requires a personal audience. She introduced herself as Hwasa and said that you know her."

Yongsun's heart skips a beat as she hears the familiar nickname, and her ribs painfully catch her breath, forcing a half-choked wheeze out of her throat. She feels just like that July day in the gardens of Ahn summer palace, when a girl with hair dark as night nailed her in place, like a butterfly, with only one sharp look of charcoal eyes.

"Tell her I'll be there soon," Yongsun replies dully after a long and lingering silence.

Captain walks away, Yongsun hears his firm footsteps receding, and her legs immediately give way, and her heart jumps to her throat.

She's here. She’s really here.

_"Yongsun, will you stop?" Her mother hisses, and Yongsun immediately turns her attention to the prince sitting next to her and builds a meek expression, ignoring the soft, husky chuckle from the side where Yongsun was looking a second ago._

_The prince is tall and handsome, with dreamy eyes and blonde hair. He has a clear ringing voice that gives Yongsun chills down her spine, and he himself is bright and beautiful, like the young spring sun. This is her future husband. It's probably rude that an hour after they met, she can't remember his name, but, then again, she has a legitimate reason for that._

_Throughout the festive dinner in the gardens of Ahn summer palace she can't take her eyes off someone else entirely._

_The prince's younger sister is not a bit like him. No one would have thought that they were related, if not for the same family colors of the royal Ahn family, beautifully decorating their attires._

_Princess Hyejin turns eighteen today, and from her beautiful face with soft edges and bold eyes, it is clear who inherited all that impossible hubris the late Queen Ahn were once famous for. Her hair is blacker than a raven's wing and curls in large waves, falling on one shoulder, dark eyes, so sharp and dangerous, get inexplicably warm, when Yongsun catches her gaze, her brightly painted lips curl in a mocking grin now and then, and her bronze skin shines in the rays of the setting sun and the light of paper lanterns, making her look like a real work of art, and, oh gods, Yongsun just can't help but look at her._

Soldiers greet her with short bows, and Yongsun hardly finds the strength to nod back. The withered grass that got covered with a thin layer of frost overnight crunches under her feet, the pungent smell of burnt rice, metal and medicinal herbs from the infirmary fills her nostrils, and Yongsun thinks that she is still sleeping and having some weird dream. Insignificant things, like scratches and dents on the officers' armor, are imprinting in her memory with painful precision, and she desperately wants to stop and close her eyes for a moment to calm down, to catch herself, but she stubbornly walks towards the captain's tent, not paying attention to the pounding in her chest and severe shortness of breath.

Never before in this long year of war had Yongsun felt so tense and frightened as she does now, ten paces and three breaths from her.

_Yongsun is glad she agreed to stay in Ahn kingdom until the end of the summer, though not for the reasons she should be happy about. No matter how rude it may sound, she is completely indifferent to the attention that the courteous and infatuated prince gives her. She is little worried about state affairs her future father-in-law talks about at breakfast, lunch and dinner. She is not in the least interested in the traditional methods of embroidery that courtiers do with her._

_She wakes up every day for just one fleeting smile from Princess Hyejin._

_They sit opposite each other during meals, and no one except them notices their glances. Hyejin has a serious face, but her eyes, which are usually so sharp and cold, are filled to the brim with amusement and sunshine when she looks at Yongsun. Besides them, there are whole royal family and - only occasionally - ambassadors and guests of honor at the table, but Hyejin's eyes are only for Yongsun, and Yongsun's smiles are only for Hyejin._

_Sometimes, when the fierce summer sun mercifully hides behind the wadded clouds, and the wind erases all the sharp corners of the scorching rays, they walk in the beautiful royal gardens, and Hyejin shows Yongsun her favorite flowers, and Yongsun weaves wreaths of daisies and dandelions for her (yellow suits Hyejin, and Yongsun's chest tugs sweetly every time she flaps her eyelashes from under the delicate petals of her wreath, dashingly thrown over her head) . The afternoons on these quiet days are filled with Hyejin's low voice, her raspy laugh and the dizzying scent of yellow lilies._

_One warm evening they sneak out of the palace and into the town, disguised as their maids. There is a festival in the town, musicians play songs unfamiliar to Yongsun, and bonfires are burning on the central square, competing in brightness with the moon and stars, and people are getting close to the fire and exhilarating live music, and everyone are dancing, wriggling around the bonfires, forgetting all worries. The smell of honeyed smoke, spicy food and sweets is much more intoxicating than the sip of young wine from the huge steer horn that the owner of the local tavern have offered them, and Yongsun thinks she has never felt freer and happier than now, hand in hand with Hyejin, lost among ordinary people at the summer festival. They stand at a distance from the circle of dancers, silently enjoying the joyous atmosphere and the company of each other. Yongsun awkwardly tries to hide her golden hair under her robes while trying to bite off her caramel apple, when suddenly Hyejin's warm fingers close under her chin, and the next thing she feels are Hyejin's soft lips on her, the luscious taste of caramel and sweet wine. With a trembling heart Yongsun leans forward, kisses back impulsively, locks arms around Hyejin's neck, and feels her guttural laugh on her lips and chuckles in return._

_On her last night at Ahn's palace, when the stars are especially bright and the moonlight washes away any sadness from the upcoming parting, Yongsun allows Hyejin to stay in her quarters for the night. They are shy and do not quite know what to do, they just do what they think is right, and Yongsun chokes with an overabundance of sensations and emotions. She holds Hyejin in her arms, feels her violent tremble and desperate sighs and frivolously thrown whispers of love all over her body, and the whole night is filled with stars and Yongsun and Hyejin._

Inside the tent, one of the captain's subordinates is guarding the uninvited guest, his hand quivers impatiently on the hilt of his sword, and his face is contorted in a grimace of anger. The guest herself is sprawled on a shaky chair in the most insolent way, throwing one leg over the other, as if she's sitting on a throne of gold and gems, and smiles a devilish smile at the enraged guard, clearly teasing him in her favorite manner, but as soon as Yongsun steps inside, a sharp look of dark eyes rush to her, and a smile creeps from beautiful full lips.

"You are free to go, soldier," Yongsun says, not taking her gaze off the girl on a chair. "Leave us."

"But Your Highness, I have an order from Captain Woo–"

"And now you have an order from me." Yongsun's voice is harsh and rude again, but this time she doesn't find the strength to be ashamed. "Get out."

They are left alone, and Yongsun has to gather all her willpower into a fist so as not to rush with an embrace on the figure standing opposite her, wearing men's armor and worn out boots made of bad leather, with a boyish hair dyed light brown, damp and shining in the dull light of burning candles and the sun, that makes its way into the tent through the cracks with great uncertainty, as if not daring to interrupt their privacy.

"You're out of your mind," Yongsun shakes her head because, _yes_ , it's really Hyejin. No makeup, no expensive robes, more like a homeless boy than a princess, but this is undeniably her.

"Maybe," Hyejin replies, and that's her voice. Painfully familiar and completely unfamiliar at the same time, as if not a year had passed since their last meeting, but a whole century. "I couldn't wait any longer."

"If anyone here finds out who you are– If my _father_ sees you–"

"Don't worry, unnie," Hyejin waves her hand, getting up from the chair. Yongsun realizes that she doesn't want her to come near her. She doesn't know why yet, but her whole being wants to run away from Hyejin to another corner of the tent and just look at her from afar. "I've disguised myself pretty well, don't you think?"

She buries her fingers in her short scruff and smiles that _only-for-Yongsun_ smile. Yongsun notices that the short hair is giving her smile a completely new charm. It looks cute, and _gods_ , she missed her, she missed her so much.

"Thought I'd never see you again," Yongsun mutters. Her heart swells with emotions, because even in the middle of the war, being on opposite sides of the barricades, Hyejin still looks at her with the same look full of calm sunshine and tenderness.

"No wonder," Hyejin grins. She looks weirdly joyful – the result of them finally seeing each other, perhaps (because Yongsun's emotions is all around the place as well, and she doesn't quite know whether she should laugh or cry or be angry). A bit of a strange picture for Yongsun, who is now too used to the grim and sullen faces of her soldiers. "Given the circumstances."

The circumstances are that the princess of a hostile kingdom is now standing in the captain's tent and talking sweetly with the heiress to the throne. Yongsun thanks fate that no one in the camp recognized Hyejin. She really is well-disguised.

"Why are you here, Hyejin?"

The question hangs in the dense air for too long, and during the silence Yongsun manages to mentally die and revive three times, and Hyejin's light mood changes dramatically.

"I don’t know."

This is the last thing Yongsun expected to hear.

"You really lost your mind," she whispers, staring in shock at Hyejin's pursed lips.

"No, it was my father who lost his mind, declaring war on half of his allies," she replies bitterly, "and sending thereby a third of his people and his own son to death."

Yongsun closes her eyes and sees a golden-haired prince with a beautiful smile, who is unrequitedly in love with her, who recited love poems to her on summer evenings and amused everyone around with made-up stories about fireflies, forest folk and fairies. Yongsun found him funny, and Hyejin pretended not to be jealous (whether of Yongsun or him, it stayed unclear). She wants to remember him that way and not on the battlefield eight months ago with dried blood in his sunlit hair, glassy sky-colored eyes and a spear in his stomach.

"I just feel like the end is near," Hyejin continues. Tears are glistening in her eyes, and it hurts Yongsun to see it, if only because Hyejin rarely cries. Of the two, Yongsun has always been the crybaby. "My father will lose at this senseless war, and I just really wanted to see you at least once before paying for his sins."

"You don’t have to die for your–"

"Nobody's going to ask me, unnie," Hyejin shakes her head, and Yongsun's heart bleeds, because she's right. Not a single king of the allied countries, not a single adviser, no matter how stupid and incompetent they may be, will risk by leaving the only daughter of a cruel rebel alive. "And no one will ask you either."

Yongsun wants to yell at her to run away, to throw everything and escape wherever side her eyes look, until the familiar hills and forests disappear and replace by completely different views, maybe the ocean with its salty air and cries of seagulls, or mountain ranges where strangers live, who do not know anything about the princess Ahn Hyejin.

But Yongsun knows her too well and is well aware of the response she will get to such an offer.

"I have so many questions for you," Hyejin smiles painfully. "We have been given so little time together, and I want so desperately– But you look so tense now that I don’t have the courage to even approach you."

Yongsun involuntarily takes a couple of steps back, immediately noticing Hyejin's lips pursing in frustration, and swallows a thick lump in her throat. They haven't seen each other for a year, and almost every day of this unbearably long and bloody year, Yongsun tormented herself with memories of Hyejin's soft hands and warm embrace, but now that she is at arm's length, she can't find the strength to approach her.

She is scared.

Her knees are trembling, she dreads that all this is just a cruel dream caused by her tired mind, and as soon as Yongsun touches her, as soon as she kisses Hyejin's tear-filled eyes, buries her nose in her neck, drowning in the familiar warmth, she will disappear, and Yongsun will finally wake up in the loneliness of her tent, just like all the days before.

"Sorry," she says quietly, desperately hoping that Hyejin will recognize her fear. They always understood each other without words, and Yongsun wants to believe that even now, while changed beyond recognition, they have retained this ability of them.

"I’m really here," Hyejin doesn't disappoint her, and for the first time in their short and abrupt conversation, the distance between them is closing. "I'll be here as long as you wish so."

Yongsun wishes she remain here for eternity and a hundred more years in addition, but, as Hyejin pointed out earlier, no one's going to ask her.

"You look like a boy with that hair," Yongsun mutters out of place, taking a step forward. They are already standing so close to each other Yongsun can feel the stale air entangled in Hyejin's hair and clothes.

"Should I call you noona then?" A mischievous twinkle flashes in her eyes, and Yongsun lets out a strange croaking laugh, wiping away the sudden tears.

"No," she squeezes out through tears and reaches for Hyejin's cheek. Fingers brush against her soft skin, and Hyejin immediately leans into her palm like a cat. "No. My name is just fine."

"Yongsun-unnie," Hyejin whispers, burying her forehead in the crook of Yongsun's neck and wrapping her arms around her waist.

Yongsun sobs and hugs her back. _Finally, finally_ , spins in her head. She is home.

For the first time in a very long time, Yongsun isn't sitting in a military tent all day discussing strategy and tactics with her father and the generals. Instead, she's making her way into the forest, dangerously far from the camp, but she has a sword with her, and Hyejin's hand grips her fingers tightly, and war is the last thing on her mind.

The forest is dense and dark, and the fresh smell of pine needles and rotten leaves overpowers the thick stench of the camp. Hyejin breathes deeply and ruffles her short hair, sending a heap of delighted goosebumps down Yongsun's back.

"I've always wanted to live in a small house in the middle of the forest," Hyejin shares with a warm smile. "Or by the sea. I've never seen it. What's it like?"

"Beautiful," Yongsun says. No matter how hard she tries to remember how she felt when she first saw the blue expanse of the sea, endlessly stretching towards the horizon, it's useless. She doesn't remember the salty smell, or the annoying cries of seagulls, or the dark foamy waves crashing to the shore. She forgot. "Like a big lake, but even bigger."

"Great description," Hyejin laughs, and Yongsun's heart trembles with joy. "You have not lost your eloquence."

"Shut up."

They stop, and Hyejin pulls her towards herself with a satisfied smile, leans over to her blushing face and looks into her eyes, silently asking for permission.

"Nothing has changed, Hyejin-ah," Yongsun breathes against her lips, and Hyejin kisses her, soft and familiar, with a taste of caramel apples and stale air.

"Everything has changed, unnie," Hyejin pulls away, but almost immediately kisses her again, deeper this time. Yongsun can feel her warm fingers on her neck and hair.

"Everyone but us," she says, barely taking one breath after Hyejin's lips cover hers again. Her heart pounds against her ribcage and pulsates in her ears. "Nothing has changed in how I feel about you."

Hyejin doesn't answer, but kisses harder, snuggles closer, and her every movement speaks of her thoughts without a word: she missed her, and she is sure that this is their last meeting. Yongsun has those fears herself. She always been a realist.

"Why did it happen?" She whispers as Yongsun pulls back to catch her breath. She is dizzy and her lips are a little raw from kissing. "It's not fair."

Hyejin is only twenty years old. She has just begun her adulthood, and Yongsun is suddenly aware of this almost for the first time, when she sees her now, with dark eyes and resentfully curled lips.

"I know," Yongsun strokes her short hair, runs her thumb down her sharp cheekbone to the rounded jawline and quickly kisses her pouting lips, "I'm sorry."

If the world were fair, this war would not have happened. If the world were fair, Yongsun would bravely ask Hyejin's hand from her father and receive his blessing. If the world were fair, Yongsun and Hyejin would live in a small house in the woods, near the sea, and fall asleep, embracing each other, to the sound of waves and the light of the stars.

But they live in a real world. Real and cruel. And in this world, there is no future for "them". No house in the woods, no sound of waves, no light of the stars.

"Your hair–" Hyejin whispers, and Yongsun feels her thin fingers in her coarse strands.

"It's nothing,” she waves off, hugging Hyejin tighter. "They will grow back."

They won't be the same anymore, but it hardly bothers Yongsun right now.

"Tell me," Hyejin suddenly says and pulls her along, sitting down directly on the wet moss under the trunk of a bizarre, crooked tree.

"Tell what?" Yongsun blinks, moving closer, intertwining her legs with hers, and Hyejin immediately rests her head on her shoulder.

"Anything," she says. "I just want to hear your voice."

And Yongsun wastes no time starting to talk. Chatters and chatters, telling real and made-up stories, feeling Hyejin's breath on her cheek and her quiet tears on her neck.

They sit under this tree until their legs feel numb and their eyelids begin to close down tiredly. Yongsun's throat is dry from the long conversation, but Hyejin smiles faintly and kisses her neck from time to time, and it's worth it.

"We will meet again eventually," Hyejin opens her mouth for the first time in hours, interrupting Yongsun in the middle of her story. "Even if it will be in the next life."

"We will," Yongsun echoes.

She leaves at sunset, and Yongsun stares after her until her small figure disappears between the trunks of a hundred-year-old trees.

The rebellious king's charcoal eyes gaze into the distance with a characteristic appeasement of a dead man, and Yongsun quickly looks away, afraid to see familiar features on his gray face. His spiked head now stands at the very top of the mountain of corpses, being an eyesore to everyone. 

"Your Highness, I will take care of your wounds." The girl with the white healer's band on her shoulder takes Yongsun's right hand and, without permission, begins to tear the bloody sleeve off her tunic.

Yongsun doesn't mind. She doesn't really care now. She is surrounded by the dead bodies of her own and others' soldiers, and she does not remember how many she killed that morning, until her father forced the enemy troops to lay down their weapons by raising high into the sky the severed head of their leader. Her belly curls dangerously with the smell of meat and iron, threatening to rid itself of its content in an unnatural way, but Yongsun endures.

Somewhere between the gray clouds, thunder rumbles menacingly, and Yongsun looks up to meet the first drops of rain.

"Do you hear me, Your Highness?" The healer asks.

"What?"

"I said that you fought very bravely today."

Yongsun doesn't hold back a bitter laugh, causing the healer to frown in confusion.

"Only mindless idiots fight bravely," says Yongsun. "Before the beginning of the battle, many think that they will fight for their king and for the honor of their country, but as soon as you find yourself in the thick of a battlefield, the only thing you’re thinking about is how to stay alive for another minute and not accidentally run into someone else's sword."

The healer doesn’t answer to that. It starts to drizzle. The air is humid and heavy, and Yongsun is gasping for breath.

"This senseless war is finally over," Yongsun gasps and winces as the healer rinses the long cut with alcohol.

"Yes, rebel King Ahn and all of his heirs are now dead,” the healer replies contentedly, and Yongsun turns abruptly, catching on healer's tired smile and the dimple in her round cheek. "Very soon everything will return to normal."

"What did you say?"

"Huh?" The healer blinks, stopping her precise methodical movements for a second.

"What did you just say about King Ahn?"

"He and his heirs are now dead," the healer repeats slowly. "I saw how Princess Hyejin was caught." Something breaks inside Yongsun's chest at the healer's words. "But she resisted, wounded several people, and Captain Woosang had no choice but to- but to kill her."

This was expected. As scary as it sounded, both Yongsun and Hyejin knew this would happen. Yongsun has already started to prepare for this in advance, but the news still stuns her.

"She seemed to be gone mad," healer continues, not noticing the gray face of the princess. "She screamed and growled like a wild beast, cried, cursed everyone around, but when the Captain pierced her heart, everything sank into deathly silence. I just saw her whisper something in the Captain's ear, then she didn't move anymore."

"Where is she?" Yongsun wheezes. Her throat is raw with tears, but there is a strange emptiness in her chest. As if she forgot how to feel.

"It was at the edge of the forest." The healer points south with a bloody finger. "Not far from the pit where they burn… wait, where are you going?"

She runs to where the fetid gray smoke rises, not paying attention to the dirt under her feet, to raindrops getting in her eyes, to the twisted ankle and other people's shouts behind her back. The only thing she thinks about is _Hyejin, Hyejin, Hyejin_.

A large, rough palm painfully grabs her elbow, stopping her literally ten meters from her destination, where a circle of onlookers of soldiers, officers and healers gathered. They all look at the ground, and Yongsun knows who is lying there, and she wants to yell at everyone to get the hell away from there, so that no one dares to even breathe in her direction, so that they leave her alone.

"Your Highness." It’s Captain Woosang. His hand holds her tightly by the elbow, and that is the only thing that now holds her on her feet. The hand that killed her love. Reality has a very bad sense of humor. "I'm–"

"Let me go."

"I'm sorry, Yongsun," he whispers, omitting formalities for the first time in many, many years, and the most painful thing is that Yongsun believes him. Woosang _is_ sorry that this happened. "Really."

Captain has always been a perceptive person. And, if anyone suspected anything about Yongsun's and Hyejin's relationship, it would be only him. Yongsun almost certainly knows that her last meeting with Hyejin was only thanks to him, who recognized Princess Hyejin in a girl with a boyish haircut who suddenly appeared in the camp. Otherwise, they wouldn't even let her get close to Yongsun.

"What did she say?" She asks evenly and looks into the Captain's puzzled eyes. "She said something before she died. What was it?"

"'Tell her'."

"What?"

"The only thing she managed to say," Captain Woosang says. "Just this. Just 'tell her'."

Yongsun doesn't quite know how to feel. She has no idea how to react to this, and it's scary. She unhooks Woosang's arm from her elbow and trudges on wooden legs to the crowd near the pit with the corpses.

"Out of the way!" The captain shouts, and everyone move aside in front of Yongsun like earth under an iron plow.

The first thing Yongsun sees is Hyejin's pale face, framed by matted black hair. She sees blood on her thin neck, and blood on her beautiful armor, not at all the same as she wore when they last met, and blood on her hands and boots. She sees a darkening mortal wound in her chest, and feels a blinding sharp pain rushing through her own heart.

It is only then that Yongsun notices it. The thing that made it so interesting for everyone to look at the dead princess of a rebellious kingdom.

_Hyejin gently tilts the comb down through Yongsun's golden hair, then strokes again with her free hand, burying fingers in thick strands. Yongsun rolls her eyes in pleasure and inhales the sweet scent of yellow lilies Hyejin picked for her in the morning._

_"The most precious gold of the Southern Kingdom," draws Hyejin._

_"They really tried to steal my hair," Yongsun grins and Hyejin snorts loudly. "It's truth! Two years ago, a bunch of robbers managed to get into the palace, and if my dog hadn't woken me up with his barking, I would have been left with crooked mop up to my shoulders. They even brought their own scissors, can you imagine?"_

_Hyejin laughs, and Yongsun can't help but laugh back._

_"I hope your dog was generously rewarded."_

_"Oh, yes, Jjing-Jjing is being spoiled rotten now."_

_"Well, I'm grateful to your dog as well. I love your hair," Hyejin says, running the comb over the matted ends. "They are the same color as my favorite flowers."_

Yongsun slowly walks up to her, kneels down, gently brushes her hand over her cheek, wiping away the blood trace. The crowd slowly disperses under the command of Captain Woosang, but Yongsun is not in the least bit interested in what's happening around her. She looks at Hyejin's serene face, at the tiny drops of rain trapped in her long eyelashes, then inhales the familiar sweet scent of yellow lilies that frame her motionless body in a beautiful flower cradle.

Yellow always suited Hyejin.

Yongsun is crying. It's drizzling. Breathtaking buds bloom with every drop that falls, and Yongsun remembers the last thing Hyejin told her.

"We will meet again eventually."

**Author's Note:**

> I was actually very proud of this work when I first started it, but then the translation just killed half the atmosphere I was going for, because I'm not as fluent in English, and then I burned out, so the ending seems a little weird. I am sorry for that. Nonetheless, I still like it, and I hope at least someone enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed working on it.
> 
> Please leave a kudos, or share your thoughts, if you liked my story✨
> 
> I also have a Ko-Fi page, if you feel generous🥺: https://ko-fi.com/remm_remm  
> 


End file.
